It was a simple request for help by a trader being attacked by Wild pilots near the Sigma 13 anomaly. For Grup-Hauptman Boeser Verraeter of the Rheinland Military it was routine--even if unpleasant--duty. Turning guns on those who were former comrades in arms was distasteful and even disturbing but he was well aware it had to be done.
The engine of his Valkyrie fighter roared to life and he and his wingman launched from planet New Berlin for the short trip to the jump hole so often and so stupidly used as a shortcut by cargo pilots. "Will they ever learn?", mused Hauptman Boeser. Weaving in and out of the small asteroids and keeping a sharp eye out for Hessian pilots, Bose and his wing closed on an obviously distressed "whale". A ship completely unsuited for combat or such a risky shortcut. Its cavernous hold was useless if it was blasted apart. Boeser wondered at the verdamnt captain's idiocy bringing such a ship here. Several Wild in Rheinland fighters with garish symbols painted over their old military markings were firing the eerie beams that signified they were using Nomad ordinance. The trader wasn't going to take much more before he was destroyed. "Watch my six Lieutenant !" barked Boeser as he thrusted towards the first Wild fighter which was shimmering in the distortion of the Sigma wormhole. He had just begun to fire when he realized something was wrong--very wrong.
The shimmering was a ship transiting the wormhole and it was not a fighter and not Rheinland. A massive volley of fire poured out of it and tore the wing, thruster and shield from Boeser's ship. To his further horror, he realized that the Wild fighters had passed right by him--catching his wingman by surprise. Boeser felt a surge of sorrow as his group member's ship exploded. He had no chance. With no thruster, Boeser too was now helpless in space. He contemplated drawing his service revolver to insure the Wild did not take him and as he looked back up there was a Rheinland fighter with its nose butted up against his own. The pilot was meeting his gaze from just two few meters away. Boeser was stunned and then realized the pilot was going to finish him. He raised his hand in a contemptuous salute--more for the memory of the man who was than the creature he now faced.
It was then the pain hit him, excruciating, mind-numbing pain. Boeser was unable to tear his gaze from the Wild pilot who had not fired or moved but simply stared. From his peripheral vision, Boeser could see Wild fighters clustered about his ship--one even had scraped paint from his remaining wing it was so close. The large ship that had disabled him was gone from sight--most certainly back to Sigma 13. Thoughts of hopelessness and a feeling of extreme fatigue began to wash over him. Boeser was still paralyzed and unable to move and the pain was causing him to begin to blackout. One single thought flashed through his mind--one not his own: "Good--it will be quick now officer. Do not fear."
His vision began to dim and at first Boeser was certain he was losing consciousness. It dawned on him then that the Wild fighters were gone and something else was blocking the light from New Berlin's star...the whale!
The pain in his head stopped and Boeser was suddenly able to move. As he turned his head to look for a way out, the Wild pilot who had locked his gaze was looking impassively at him from his two o-clock position, still close as before. With no other expression, he returned Boeser's salute and then there was a bump and clang as the whale swept him into its hold and Boeser was engulfed in darkness...and the beginning of total fear.
The combat officer on New Berlin noted the disappearance of the bogies from the planetary array and also saw the last military transponder beacon cease at the same moment. He made a quick entry into his neural net terminal and went back to gazing at his screens. "Another day in New Berlin.", he thought.
Boeser sat shivering in a bare metal room. A single, small steel table and two steel chairs were bolted to the floor...as were the shackles attached to his wrists and ankles.
There were no windows--only a single steel door which appeared to lock and unlock only from the outside. Boeser had tried for the pistol while in the whale's cargo hold but two mechanicals had quickly shattered the glass of his canopy and sprayed a bluish gas into his face. After that, all he remembered was waking in the room.
"Am I infected?" His chest tightened with fear at the thought. He imagined this was an Order base and that he would soon meet an officer of the organization who would explain the terms of his ransom back home. Boeser grasped at any thought other than the obvious one--that the Wild had not yet even begun with him. He wiped sweaty palms on his flight vest and felt a small bulge in one of the pockets. Reaching in with his shackled hand he managed to extract the object. It was his rosary. Born to a Catholic family, Boeser had always had an awed sense of a present God and the rosary always accompanied him on combat missions.
The rosary was an immediate comfort. It suggested that there were things beyond the reach of the Wild and a world where good was valued along with the soul and well-being of man. Not like this loathsome place. He fingered the rosary hoping beyond hope that some miracle would deliver him. Perhaps he could escape--after all, the Wild were alien but still in human bodies. They could make a mistake and he might be able to capitalize on it. The comforting fingering of the cool wooden beads helped push the fear in the back of his mind farther back. Boeser began to wonder not what would happen to him but what the Wild wanted from him. There had to be a reason he was still alive and apparently unpossessed. perhaps God was granting him mercy after all!
His thoughts were shattered by the sudden loud clank of a bolt outside the door being swung back and the shrill squeal of metal hinges grinding as the door began to swing open. The terror quickly returned.
The door swung fully open and a handsome, young Rheinland military officer walked in. His wavy blond hair, perfect teeth and chiseled features had no doubt set many a fraulein's heart aflame and for a moment Boeser did not feel so alone. The uniform and its familiarity were even comforting.
Incredibly, the officer greeted Boeser with a toothy smile and an extended hand. "Guten Morgen Hautpman! I am Dieter Mann and am here to assist you in the transition to your new environment. My apologies for the lack of present accommodations--they are only temporary I assure you and if things go well....and we have your cooperation...you will be released."
Boeser sat stunned...was this one human!? In shock he half reached for the offered hand but then the eyes caught his attention. They were a sparkling blue--perfectly normal--yet very familiar. They were the same eyes of the Wild Pilot that had transfixed him in the brief battle at New Berlin.
Boeser stiffened and dropped his own hand back down. "I have nothing to say creature and I will not cooperate. You can go back to hell." The smile and friendly expression dropped from the face of the Wild officer to be replaced with a contemplative and implacable visage. He looked directly at Boeser again, with no sign of outward emotion.
**Yes--I am indeed that officer Herr Boeser...and you will cooperate because it is the only way you will survive and not become completely as I am. I am the one who left you the rosary and I have great faith in your being different than those before you--even than myself**
Boeser shivered in a sudden spasm of revulsion. The entire conversation had happened in his head with no word spoken by the Wild, It had not even moved. The very thought that this thing had been human at one time amplified the horror even more. Did it have a family back home? Did it suffer? Was it a traitor or a hero? The thoughts raced through his head.
"I am quite capable of speaking and will do so for your own comfort. It can be quite disconcerting and--alien--to have our sort of communication when one is not accustomed to it. I am here to offer you a chance no other human has ever had with us Herr Boeser. The offer is sincere and veils no deception. Of course we will not simply let you go--I am sure you understand that--but we will give you a chance that no other has ever had before because we are going to put all of our ability to use to help you survive."
Boeser sneered in contempt, "What "help" could you possibly give me creature? You offer only death and enslavement. A complete transformation to an alien with only a human shell wrapped around it. How in God's universe could any of your kind help me? All you offer is death."
"You are wrong Herr Boeser. We...I...am here to try to help you save your soul."
Boeser stared uncomprehendingly at the apparently insane Wild before him. "Save...my...soul". He carefully repeated. "It is simply done--set me free now."
The Wild leaned forward over the table and met his gaze fiercely. "I do not jest with you mein herr and I am not insane. Many men and women and children before you have sat in the very chair you are in--stripped naked and weeping as they died painful and torturous deaths. I have seen military men defecate themselves in that seat...hearts fail with no warning...and soldiers lose their sanity in an instant. Yet I offer you respect for the faith you hold so dear and your response is contempt. I have meant every word I said. We want to believe your faith. To know it is true. It is as important to us as it is to you. Do not misunderstand me--you will die here. There is no other way...but we will do all in our power to insure it does not happen until you have convinced us that you are at peace with your God. We wish to understand. Always before we have ignored the cries and pleadings and invocations of "gods". We can pinpoint the areas of the brain that are active and seem to generate them...measure the electrical strength of the neural signals and provide a complete dissertation on the psychological need for such superstitions in lower creatures. Yet we are unable to explain the effects such things produce in the individual. they produce changes in confidence and self that are unfathomable to us. We wish to understand what this power is and we need you to show us. Is this not the very thing your God commands--to be a witness?"
Boeser's shoulders dropped and he lowered his gaze. "I do not believe it is possible for "you" to understand. I do not believe you have a soul. Nothing I tell you will help you--it will remain incomprehensible. What you ask is impossible."
The Wild stood erect and stated, "If this is so and what you believe true then it is to our pity. But there is a hope for both of us my comrade. The hope is that if we allow and help, you may bring this faith with you when you cross over to us. It is the only way. Does not your God's own story require his death? Perhaps in yours--if we are willing to receive, you may grant understanding through your eyes to us. If I tell you that you will be treated with dignity and respect--that no answer will be withheld from any question you ask and that you will not suffer harm from us until you are certain you are ready, then will you agree we may begin to try to understand? Will you make the attempt with your...faith?"
Boeser looked up again and answered, "It is as impossible for me to trust you as it is for you to accept what I believe but I will do as you ask for my God's sake. Him I can trust. The results will be up to him. I can do nothing myself for you--only he can."
The Wild bowed his head in apparent gratitude, paused a moment and then looked up and said, "Then you have my word--let us begin to see if we are able to understand." He closed his eyes briefly and several men and women entered the room. All stared with apparent humility at Boeser. So he took a deep breath and began to express his faith.
*The screaming sounds of Hauptman Boeser Verraeter had finally ceased*
Sound...light...sensation...hunger.
Always before ignored--mere background noise of the biological unit's alien design...of no consequence.
Now listened to...studied. The same but different...immersion. Uncomfortable...then soothing.
Of interest...study. Mind focused...NO!... minds focused. "We". One but two and the two one yet distinct. Always before of no value...always before ignored.
Now it sings. Not the voice--voices.
Great focus here. To harmonize to allow expression but with order and control. So difficult...so contradictory...so alien.
Always before submerged...disassembled, duplicated, mimicked. Now encouraged and allowed expression. Is this expression of the self or merely the recorded echoes stripped from the dying electrical fires of pillaged neurons? Already our thoughts colored and changed. Is this strength or is it weakness? Unknown.
Risk taken to see. Strength meets self and guides with careful restraint...not destroyed, extinguished...consumed.
Two in one...one is two. "We".
Now "I" learns from "We". Hauptman...man...self...gazes back and "I" see self for first time. Illusion? Understanding? Unknown. We learn. Fire and light! Power! Knowledge unknown...our purpose fulfilled. How can...we...not? We will!
We have learned "I" and now "I learn from we. Two combined--the greater nurtures and studies the lesser but their whole is greater than the sum of their parts. Is this life? IS this being?
We will be. I have decided. He will exist and I will become us. The Makers were ones. Separate from one another and from I...us. Was this their greatness?
Synaptic image store of he joined to us. We are Ba'alancer--one of the whole. One of the one. The same yet different. We see and we are now known by us.
Hismelody...sings of us. To us? About us? It is our melody too. The two are one.
One thing we had told the Hauptmann was fully the truth. We have not comprehended the full measure of this "faith" humans cling to. We can explain many of its mechanisms yet it produces change in ways we can not in any way explain. No doubt one day we will lift its essence from the minds of those taken and master it for our own use but even though we cannot fully explain it now we can use it.
In the months spent with Herr Boeser, we recorded and studied every facial muscle, eye movement, vocalization and expression he made. We studied his cadence, capillary dilation, philosophy dogma and theology. We embraced and imprinted his emotions through our link and in his death he was more scrutinized by us than any before him. We cannot explain his faith but we can mimic it perfectly. So much so that we can almost do it instinctively and naturally. It takes great focus and can be expressed only through one of us at a time but that one can bring back to life the man Boeser Verraeter and speak as him in a measure we have never before done.
Boeser was right--we will never believe as he did. But we can use that belief to gain power over mankind who does. We own their weakness now and we will begin to destroy them from within as well as from without. Perhaps we have no soul but we can still destroy man's. This is our power. We do not need superstitions and the full process of their obsession is irrelevant to our current goals. We have now become more human than human.
The form of the man, Boeser Verraeter entered the room--his face without expression, his eyes...soulless. "And we will keep our pledge to Herr Boeser. He will be treated with dignity. We will not send him to present our gospel. We have another in mind. He will carry the message for us. The first Wild evangelist is sent to mankind now--courtesy of the teachings of Herr Boeser. We send Evangelus to mankind now...and he comes bearing gifts. It is time to begin the corruption of mankind's soul and redeem our heritage taken by them."
Rheinland's most stunningly successful band in history took a last bow on the stage as their concert ended. The auditorium shook with near deafening applause. The leader of the group was a true Viking of old. Not the blond haired Aryan but a dark warrior with long locks of black hair and as tall and powerful as a lion from old earth. It was obvious he reveled in his looks and equally obvious from the women in the crowd that he was no alone in that. As the band turned to exit the stage, its charismatic lead singer, Johan "Hans" Hoezel, turned his back to the Rheinland officer's detachment in attendance and seated in the front row "VIP" seats and with yet another bow dropped his pants and once and for all answered the fraulein's giddy and frequent question, "What do you wear underneath?"
The officer's half came out of their seats but the thunderous and approving cheer of the crowd behind them quickly sat them back down again--faces flushed red with impotent fury.
"That will show "Der Kommissar" that no one tells Helheim who gets the best seats at our concerts anymore!" Hans shouted to the crowd which was still delightedly cheering because in the passion of his message he had forgotten his pants before he turned. With a smirk and a flourish, he hoisted them back up and stepped spryly from the stage. The rumors of war with Liberty had alienated many of Rheinland's youth and in no small measure had elevated an already extremely successful group to the status of full cultural icons.
A chartered cruise liner waited them--reserved only for the band and its crew and a select few personal guests--many of whom were eager and nubile young female fans that would be unceremoniously ejected and replaced at the next docking. As soon as the ship launched the stocks of cardamine and synthetic marijuana along with mind altering hardware and software sets (rumored to have been developed as part of Liberty's experiments with the Nomads). If a Rheinland official were to see...
"Well, of no concern", thought Hans. "No Rheinland stooge will ever see these things. This is Helheim. None may enter without my permission! I am a GOD here!"
Hans eagerly keyed his music implant. He was eager to put the final mix on the song that would make his band infamous in all of Rheinland. It would be the capstone of their success. He was dedicating a song to the Wild. Oh the fury and gnashing of teeth by the elite would be delightful to see! "I'm golden now--no one can stop me!" He thrilled with anticipation as the music began to play loudly in his head.
One of the ship's compliment stared impassively at the singer and while his face did not show it, a look of satisfaction sparkled in his eyes. "Almost time for this one." he thought. "He will be the one."
The death of Boeser Verraeter marked a new direction for the Wild. Never before had an individuals entire emotional expression been fully and minutely categorized. This had been facilitated not just by concentration of the mass mind of the Nomad/Wild but but by the use of a recently assembled ancient device.
Imagine the world's largest jigsaw puzzle. Now imagine all the world's jigsaw puzzles. Put them in a massive box (say several dry ocean beds on several deserted planets) and shake them up thoroughly. Afterward blow the planet up with such force that the pieces of all these puzzles are scattered across multiple star systems.
This is the "gift" that the Dom-K'vash left the Slomon-K'Hara...the "Nomads".
Near infinite numbers of artifact combinations exist. Like human dna, many artifacts are redundant--safeguards against losing too much information--yet some are more rare and difficult to access than others. It pains the Slomon-K'Hara to see any of them lost or destroyed--these are the gifts left behind to guarantee the future evolution and ascension of the Nomad species. Not even they know the full number or purpose of all the artifacts but within them lie technological and biological knowledge and devices that can in time enable them to subjugate and control the entire known universe. The trade by humans in them as "collectibles" especially disturbs the Slomon-K'Hara. Some artifacts are activated by light or warmth, sound or motion and if their activation is not finalized or completed, the information contained within them is irretrievable lost. Many an artifact has been handled by a human collector who had no idea that it was awaiting a final activation sequence or response. Very few have been successfully accessed by humans and those that have created technological breakthroughs on a scale not seen before in human history.
It was one such device that enabled the Wild to scrutinize the emotional, electrical, chemical and neurological processes and expressions of Boeser Verraeter as he was taken. It was these artifacts connected to a Nomad power cell that allowed his persona to be stored and kept freely accessible to the mass mind of the Slomon-K'Hara. In essence, any Wild--though its connection to its human host brain--can "channel" Boeser Verraeter at will. This is more than mere recalled memory and knowledge taken from an assimilated host's mind. This is the core of their being--the mathematical probability matrix that predicts their expression and use of the knowledge that person had. In effect, a virtual human being that can be consulted and communicated with by the hive mind at its need. Living libraries...fully accurate databases.
For the first time, the Wild truly are able to be "more human than human".
It is with this capability in mind, that part of the great mind is focused through the Wild to begin a new assault on humans in Sirius. One where the ability for humans to tell friend from foe becomes even more difficult and one that allows the Slomon-K'Hara to manipulate non-infested humans as well as those taken. In a short time, the first demonstration of this weapon will be seen and it will begin in Rheinland.
Wild Boeser Verraeter smiled as he observed the Consortium cyborg machine intelligences bombard the new Wild base in Tohoku. The CS ships were feverishly pouring fire into the base structure--confident their efforts would shatter Tekagi's base and its signature arch into a million pieces of rubble.
They had begun with a preliminary bombardment of what appeared to be natural rock fissures, hoping to increase the stress along the fissure lines. Then they had proceeded to fire ballistic missiles and to accelerate artificial and natural masses into the station in order to crack those same fissures open and expose the base interior.
It was difficult to suppress the human inclination of his current bioform to laugh. Decades of intelligent nanopaste -- powered and programmed by the energy of a Nomad power cell had infused the natural rock structure at Tohoku so as to make it nearly invulnerable. Flexible and piezoelectric, the nanopaste converted the kinetic and thermal energy of weapons impacts into fluid energy shielding throughout the structure. Each blow and blast momentarily multiplied the hardness and shielding value of the paste as well as provided auxiliary power to the station's weaponry. It would take energies on the scale of a singularity to overcome the resilience of the paste and affect the rock it permeated. This was the work that Tekagi had begun. It was the defensive capabilities programmed into this same paste that had kept humans from reclaiming the arch for so long as well --keeping it inviolate and ready for its new masters, the Wild.
This attack was allowed to proceed as it served the purpose of allowing the Wild a long, leisurely time to scan, classify and analyze every rivet and energy signature of the Consortium ships. Weapons, turn and fire rates, hull armor, transmissions and chemical analysis of exhaust gasses as well as a barrage of other passive and active scanners gathered information on the attacking vessels. Perceived weaknesses in the base's structure were computer directed thermal blooms and seismic vibrations generated intentionally through the nanopaste by a Wild remote control system within the base. Fissures and cracks were only radar and holographically enhanced false weak spots lined with sensors and weapons counter batteries.
So clever were these frankensteinian creatures in their own minds. So futile and valueless their efforts. Occasionally a Wild fighter group was directed to snipe at the units but they were allowed to stay to analyze their capabilities and weaknesses. In time, these creatures would be removed -- though they thought they would rule human life in this sector. Even now in their self-imagined brilliance they sought to infiltrate the ranks of the Wild with one they felt was immune to assimilation. Perhaps during their attack we will order the nanopaste to simulate damage in order to amuse ourselves further. Imagine the despair of our attackers to see it repaired before their eyes.
They cannot understand Us. They cannot see. Futility.
![[Image: Evangelus.png]](http://www.freelancer.tinked.info/images/Evangelus.png)